


A casual affair

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Outdoor Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, handjobs, technically infidelity given they're both married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: Three little snapshots of Johnny Dogs and Aberama Gold through the years.





	A casual affair

The first time, it happens in summer.

Johnny Dogs is seventeen, daft, and permanently horny. He’s working with a travelling fair for lack of anything better to do, even though the country seems to have gone into a permanent wailing depression since the Queen popped her clogs and the fair is losing both clients and travelers every year. Aberama Gold is suave, grown, and dangerous. His hand curls behind the nape of Johnny’s neck, sending uncertain shivers right down his spine.

They are both of them very drunk.

The springy turf is wet, soaking through Johnny’s trousers at the knees. The air is cool under the lengthening shadow of the trees, providing them with enough cover to get the deed done but, thrillingly, not enough to stop any passer-by from seeing them. With a heady mix of the beer and teenage arrogance thudding through him, Johnny Dogs feels like he’s won some kind of rare and exotic prize – on his knees in a shady wood with Aberama Gold’s cock in his mouth.

He chokes and splutters as Aberama cums without warning, spitting most of it out into the grass. Aberama’s hand strokes at his neck, tugging lightly on his hair.

“You could at least have swallowed.” Aberama murmurs.

The heat of the long summer’s day is beginning to dissipate as the sun is dragged unwillingly towards the horizon. Johnny shivers. Aberama gently pats the side of his face.

“It’s not a big – eh. Not a choice you’re making forever is it? Plenty of girls out there. Something like this, well, you don’t need to stick with it, hey? Not an easy life, like this.”

Johnny realises, through the haze of shame and alcohol, that Aberama Gold is trying to give him advice. His face flushes and he shivers even harder. Gently, Aberama pulls him upright and they stagger off their opposite ways.

Johnny wakes up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth and a pounding in his head. It takes a good few months before he feels ready to look any member of the Gold clan in the face again.

* * *

 

The second time is in autumn, and by now Johnny Dogs has two children to mind and pay for. He tells himself that’s the only reason he’s scowling in an alleyway, holding a pistol he doesn’t know how to use, watching down the street for policemen while the Golds gut whichever building is behind him. It’s not the best job in the world, but at least it’s not the army.

The wind is biting, and his clothes are threadbare. The rainclouds above lower themselves ominously, suffusing the city with damp even before the rain arrives. When the rain does come it seems to fly horizontally, taunting his attempts to scuttle under an overhang to escape it.   

Johnny Dogs is wet, cold, and miserable.

When Aberama Gold appears at his left elbow, in a considerably warmer looking coat, Johnny is half tempted to throw the gun in his face and storm off. Aberama’s arm wraps around his shivering shoulder and tugs him close, murmuring something that could be “half an hour” or even “another hour” for all Johnny knows. Swiftly, Aberama glances both ways down the alleyway then ducks through a small door to the side. Johnny’s that pleased to be inside he doesn’t realise the intent until Aberama’s fingers are pushing Johnny's slowly but insistently under the smart belt buckle of his trousers.

Johnny wrenches his hands away. “No!”

Aberama raises an eyebrow.

His hands are cold, and he’s tired of being the Gold’s ragged errand boy. Johnny Dogs crosses his arms and tucks his fingers up under his armpits, scowling. He continues to scowl as Aberama pulls off his warm winter coat and drapes it around Johnny’s shoulders.

The scowl fades a bit as Aberama’s fingers slide under the twine that’s currently holding his trousers up and tug him gently forwards. He lets his arms unclench to fall down by his sides, and then allows his hands, once again, to be directed gently to the front of Aberama’s trousers.

“This is … I shouldn’t …” he mumbles uncertainly.

“I won’t tell your wife,” Aberama whispers in his ear, his breath deliciously hot, “If you won’t tell mine.”

The coat is warm and smells of Aberama. Johnny’s fingers uncurl and his resolve wavers. The hand against the swell of his pants feels good, and it’s too much effort to resist.

* * *

The third time is in winter, after the Christmas meal at Charlie Strong’s yard. There’s food and drink and Tommy’s there. Johnny always feels more happy with Tommy around, because of all the people he’s drunkenly and stupidly propositioned over the years, Tommy is the only one whose never either resented him for it or taken him up on it.

He likes Tommy. He doesn’t like the idea of Aberama Gold getting his hands on Tommy.

But the meal goes well, and the drink is flowing, and Johnny doesn’t feel like tramping back to the caravan in this weather. He beds down in the stable with a hessian sack half thrown-over him, and it’s not until he’s all nice and comfortable that he realises Aberama Gold is lying in the hay next to him.

Johnny is aware, instantly, of every smallest thing in the stable. The rustle of hay, the thud of his heartbeat, the gentle snore of Aberama’s boy, sleeping somewhere near the door. This time though, Johnny isn’t some randy teenager, or a desperate jobless vagrant. He’s a Peaky Blinder, or near enough, and Tommy has already established just where the Golds stand with the Peaky Blinders.

“No.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

Aberama’s hand stops its wandering walk up the side of his leg. “No?”

There’s Bonnie, Johnny wants to say, and Tommy, and probably Polly as well given Aberama’s been mooning eyes at her all meal. He wonders why he can’t just say it’s because he doesn’t want it, and realises it’s because that would be a lie.

Aberama Gold wants to give him a hand-job, and who is Johnny to say no?

He rolls over as quietly as he can, listening out to check that the soft breathing from Bonnie never wavers an inch. His hands slide out, groping and grasping for Aberama’s cock in his trousers, the belt-buckle loosened already after an evening of excess.

“No?” Aberama repeats again, voice low and teasing. 

Aberama’s hand wraps comfortably around the back of his neck and Johnny slides down without another word. The smell is almost comforting, strangely familiar and refreshingly different all at once. Aberama’s fingers card slow and long in his hair as Johnny reaches forward and sucks in desperate silence. He’s no unpracticed teenager this time, he’s had enough experience with enough men to know what he’s doing. Aberama was right, all those years ago. It’s not an easy way to live, but then no part of Johnny’s life has been easy and he’s still managed to enjoy most of it.

The noises above him are faint and muffled, Aberama has never been loud but this time he’s clearly trying to be almost silent. Johnny doubles down his efforts until with a small muffled cry Aberama cums, and Johnny spits it out into the straw.

Slender fingers tug in his hair pulling him up. Aberama’s breath is soft and gentle against the side of his mouth, “You still don’t swallow.”

He still doesn’t. He never really has.

“Any chance of one in return?” He tries, and Aberama gives a disbelieving snort in reply. Still, he isn’t simply left hard and aching in the stable, Aberama’s hand moves down and Johnny closes his eyes and bites down on his sleeve so as not to wake Bonnie.

This time he knows he’ll have to wake the next morning and face Aberama, every day for the forseeable future. This isn’t some nameless embarrassment in the hay, this is a comfortable space between the two of them.

A space Johnny feels he wouldn’t mind revisiting.

Maybe in the spring.

 


End file.
